In the Wake of an End
by BethanRose
Summary: When Chrom finds Robin after searching for years, her memory is damaged and half-lost, and she cannot recall him or the hard-fought victory they won over Grima. Can he help her to remember? Post-endgame story, ChromxRobin with other pairings.
1. Prologue - Never Let Me Go

"There is no real ending. It's just the place where you stop the story." ― Frank Herbert

* * *

**Prologue - ****Never Let Me Go**

For a second, she could see everything. She could pick out the faint threads of hair blowing forward, products of tresses tied too fast in the rush of oncoming battle. She could see the every gash and wound of her surrounding allies, countlessly decorating tired and unwilling limbs. She could see the shift in colour of the clouds as the evening sun hung low in the sky. But what she chose to see was the light shining off her neighbour's sword, following the proud curves of a blade never dulled, the light muting where the red began. She could have seen everything and everyone in that split-second moment, but instead her eyes lingered on the prince. He was her ally, her friend, her partner.

But then the moment vanished - time caught up with the one it had forgotten, and the ball of power came down to pierce her reflection. And as the mass of darkened light consumed its foe, she felt no regret. She thought of nothing, knowing that she was soon to be nothingness, and waited to be consumed, just as her reflection had. She had killed her nemesis, and herself.

She turned once again to the red-dark-silver-shine blade and smiled, the kind of smile which one gives to you when they are not giving up, but giving in. Something small, but infinitely precious to those not pulled under. She saw him as the sun bounced of his navy hair and his eyes filled with confusion and horror and another thousand emotions she had not the time to contemplate - as he took in what she had already seen happen a thousand times in the moment of her decision. She heard his voice, something she couldn't hear over the roar of calm that had descended onto her, but she heard her name, and turned to him.  
She wanted to say, _I love you_, or, _I will miss you_, or even, _I'm terrified, but why does it have to be me? _But all of this was too close to the truth, the fear she couldn't give into, and the fear he might have to face.

So instead she laughed quietly to herself in the ricocheting tranquillity and said, "Thank you… For everything, Chrom."

And time continued to march on, whistling by faster and faster as if to make up for the moment it paused, and she closed her eyes and said, "Tell the others… that my last thoughts were of them. I hope we can meet again, in a better life and time."

Her last words were drowned as pain lanced down her spine, shooting through her nerves, and her thoughts scattered. She could barely think and yet she found herself also abstractly wondering about how the pain actually had nothing to do with her nervous system, but was, in reality, completely in her head.  
She heard him yell her name again, a desperate attempt to call her back from the precipice. She fell into the chasm with the sound of her name on his lips, and as her time-space reality mixed with dream and shattered, she died.

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**Basically, my friend has challenged me to write a fanfiction in which every chapter has the title of one of Florence and the Machine's songs, as well as having lyric quotes or references in the actual story, so here it is, hopefully it's not too terrible. ****The title of the chapter is one of Florence Welch's songs, Never Let Me Go.  
********Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated, and hopefully you enjoyed it.**


	2. Chapter 1 - Spectrum

**Chapter 1 – Spectrum**

It took a long time to return to some form of normality. For a long time, there was just confusion, but as the relief and happiness at peace mixed with grief and loss of the extended wartime hit in, a balance was reached. Throughout the land, people retuned to their lives. There were soldiers to be sent back home, nobles to coax into cooperation, documents to sign as industry fought to recover for the unsteady return of calm.

For the first time in years, the people of Ylisse could breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that war would not start in another two years, or even in for the next generation, because no one could afford it anymore. It was a tired kind of peace, the peace that comes when it has finally been won, and no one has enough strength to do anything but rest and recuperate.  
For the most part, Chrom was kept busy. As the newly exalted, he had a duty to his nation. The war did not end for him when his foes were officially defeated, but when the officials finally decided that the country was getting back on its feet. It was almost 10 months before it was safe enough for him to leave the capital in the hands of his advisors, having finally led the economy and population to a placid normality.

As soon as it was safe however, he was gone to search for his missing half.

* * *

"... to do something!"

"And what do you suppose we do?"

"Um," a feminine voice, sweet and almost childish, "I don't know."

And suddenly she could see; all colors illuminated as the blue skies filled her vision, and two figures standing out against it. She was lying in a field, the sun beating down and warming the skin. The images were blurry, and if sight could be muffled, this was what it would feel like. A small gasp of surprise bubbled up from the right figure, which then softened into a smile. She felt a small bloom of pleasure at the sight of a young lady, blonde with green eyes. Lily? Larissa? No wait; it was Lissa. _Lissa_, she thought, and a multitude of images assailed her as she pieced together a collage of thoughts.

She had the faint recollection of a staff - ornate gold with a blue orb. The idea of a smiling laugh as hands brushed over broken skin to wipe away all traces of injury. A worried peer as she analyzed every warrior, hands reaching for the vulneraries at her belt. The faint taste of metal on the tongue after a dose of medicine. The childish stamp of her foot as impatience surfaced and a frantic squealing at the appearance of a bug. She was a strange mix of strength and fear, compliance and defiance.

"I see you're awake now," a lower voice, more masculine. Her vision focused and she saw the second figure. A tall man with proud features, two deep blue eyes watching her as he bent at the waist.

If Lissa had provoked some reaction of thought in her, it was nothing to what she was hit with at the sight of this man. _Chrom_, she remembered, and the onslaught of images began: of a long sword with a magnificent hilt, of a white cape that blew out behind its wearer, of him fighting, of threading her hands through his navy hair, of his blade being levelled at her, of shadows under his eyes from the nights before battle, of watching him fall to his knees in pain, of lips brushing her neck, of blood dripping down his forehead. The violence of the thoughts confused her, and though she knew that she knew him, she couldn't remember any specifics, only a mess of half-memories.

"Hey there," disorientated, she turned to follow the voice, and as her gaze moved off the man, (_Chrom_, she reminded herself) the confusion dulled and, glad of the temporary relief, she looked to Lissa.

"There are better places to take a nap then on the ground, you know," affection in his voice, as Lissa giggled and nodded, and, as if drawn inexplicably, she returned to looking at Chrom.

"Give me your hand," he said, reaching out toward her and smiling. Hesitantly, she placed her own hand on his, a kiss from palm to palm - noticing how small her fingers were next to his, how calloused his hand was and how the tightening of his grip sent small sparks of warmth down her arm. Then there was a dizzying rush as she was pulled upwards and towards him as she stood on unsteady feet, her face now parallel to his. As her mind cleared, he gave her a slight smile full of such relief and happiness that she felt dizzy again and had to concentrate on the two guards behind the royals to stop herself from staring at his face.

"Welcome back," he said, steady eyes staring into hers, "it's over now."

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**The title of the chapter is a one of Florence Welch's more well-known songs, Spectrum, go find it, it's one of my favourites****. ****The lines 'all colours illuminated'' and 'metal on the tongue', as well as 'kiss from palm to palm' in this chapter are all linked to the song ('As every colour illuminates', 'With metal on our tongues' and 'kiss your palms' are the exact lyrics, respectively). ****Also, I love how the sentence 'kiss from palm to palm' sounds a bit like Juliet's line ("palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss") when she first meets Romeo. ****Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated, and hopefully you enjoyed it.  
****I used Spectrum because Robin returns to the world and sees first a colour spectrum but also feels a new spectrum of feelings.**


	3. Chapter 2 - All This and Heaven Too

**Chapter 2 – All This and Heaven Too**

_ "Welcome back," he said, steady eyes staring into hers, "it's over now."_

She smiled and, without knowing why, was filled with a sense of relief. Whatever _it_ was, she knew it had been a huge part of her life. So much time went into… what? She remembered fighting and swords ringing out as they clashed, she remembered studying books of, of battle maneuvers? She remembered other faces – a hardworking redheaded woman, a klutzy pegasus rider, a strong knight who was fiercely loyal and a cold katana-wielder who shied away from women.

She could picture more faces, an avalanche of reminiscence, but even though she began to search more and more frantically, the details of her past with these people were ever half-formed. She could remember holding someone down (maybe Cordelia?) as Lissa stitched up a calf-long gash, but she couldn't remember how the wound was inflicted.  
She remembered fighting past countless warriors to reach a crowned man in a yellowed cloak, but could not recall why. She could remember desperately wanting to protect the people around her and guiding them through battle, but could not remember any individual memories with them, only base emotions at the recollection of them. She shook her head, only to find that that made it worse, and a tight knot of nausea formed in her gut. She trembled for a moment, held up only by the hand in hers, before slowly sinking to the floor.

"What's wrong?" confusion, the voice of Chrom, worry evident in his voice, "Are you alright?"  
A hand on her shoulder as Lissa knelt down next to her on the grass.  
"Do you feel okay?"

A slow shake of her head was the only answer received. Lissa brushed a strand of hair out of her face, put down her bag and went to open it. "My name…" her voice was dry, cracked, as if she hadn't spoken in years, the words rasping out through unused lips, "is… Robin? Like the bird?"

"Yes, it's Robin," Lissa frowned, pausing, her mouth pulling down at the corners, "Do you know my name?"

"Lissa. The healer."

A brief smile as her countenance softened, but her eyes were still fretting. "And my brother? Remember him?" she asked as he sank into a crouch next to her.

Robin looked at him, taking in the evident fear in his eyes that he could not hide as well as his sister, and simply said, "Chrom. You're Chrom."

He nodded, and moved his hand as if to touch hers as it lay in the grass, but stopped himself, and Robin felt something close to disappointment. He looked up at her briefly and said tentatively, "Remember anyone else?"

Robin nodded, watching his cheekbones catch the light and trying to pinpoint what made her want to trace her thumb over them. With the hint of a blush, she took a deep breath, almost a sigh, and began to list those she could recall.

"I remember the ... the names and faces of Cordelia, of Frederick, of Sumia. I can remember Stahl and Panne and … Sally? No, that's not her name, it's… her name is … Sully." She touched a hand to her forehead as a dull pain started to grow there. "Sully," she repeated to herself. "And there was … there was Nowi, and Lon'qu and-"

"It's fine," Lissa said with a hint of hope, "please don't push yourself. It looks like you remember everyone."

"No... no, Lissa," Robin protested, "I said I remember their _names and faces_. Not who they are as people, but who the physically were." A pause. "I remember some things - like you giving me funny-tasting medicine, but I can't recall why … why you gave it to me. My memories are coming back all damaged. I remember thinking you were kind and … and, well, sprightly but I can't remember _why_ I thought that."

"Can you remember why we were travelling together?" Lissa asked, as her brother looked at the ground in silence.

"There was a fool in a crown, and someone, someone in a dark cloak. We were always fighting and fighting. I… I told the troops where to move."

"Do you remember how we first met?"

"We first met... no, no. I don't know."

"Do you remember the black dragon?"

"Dragon? I can't remember any black dragon."

"The second king of Plegia? Remember him?"

"Plegia? No, I don't know of a king."

"Nothing else?" almost pleading now, begging her to remember. _I would give everything and heaven as well_, Robin thought, _to remember more_.

"No, no, nothing else. Only the faces."

"Oh, Robin," Lissa said, tears starting to prickle at the corners of her eyes. "After all that, when we finally find you and…and now this."

Robin looked down at her hands, wanting to help, to comfort, but being trapped in her own inability. Lissa wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. She gave a trembling smile, "At least we found you."

"Dammit." Chrom said, at last, filling the emptiness. "But this is not fair, dammit. After all the bloody hell we been through, it just won't stop will it?"

Robin looked at him, as he turned to anger and misery. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Her new awakening left her emotions raw, and she was suddenly overtaken by wretchedness. These people had looked for her, maybe for years, and she couldn't even remember them.

"Oh gods, Robin, don't be. This isn't your fault. It was never your fault." He reached up to brush away a tear rolling down her cheek, and Robin noticed she was crying, mirroring them both in emotion.

"You don't remember who I am as … as a person?" His voice was thick.

Silence was his answer, and he sighed shakily. "I'm sorry," she repeated sadly but he shook his head, and gave her a tiny smile. "At least we found you."

He reached forward and brushed her slight fringe out of her eyes, lingering for not long enough. He cupped one half of her face in his hand and brushed his lips lightly over her cheek, the touch singing to her inside, sending warmth throughout her body.

Then he drew back, knowing that she could not even remember why he had searched for her so long and been the only one still looking. He steeled himself and stood.

"Take her to Almerry, Lissa. I'll ride on ahead." He took one last glance at Robin, and gave a laugh that could almost have been a sob, before saying, "Gods, it's not fair."  
Then he tore himself away from them, mounted his horse and left the two women with the guards.

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** Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated, and hopefully you enjoyed it. ****It's also a tad longer than the last two, so apologies, let me know which length is better - short and quick or slightly longer? I have tried to space out my text more - thank you to those who gave me feedback, it is much appreciated. **

**The title of the chapter is a one of Florence Welch's songs, All This and Heaven and Too. ****Also, who should I pair together other than Chrom and Robin? I'm biased as they are my favourite pairing, and I'm really stuck with this one.**


	4. Chapter 3 - Dog Days Are Over

**Chapter 3 - Dog Days Are Over**

It took her three days to find some resemblance of a routine. Three days of almost complete isolation in the small stronghold of Almerry. Lissa would visit her in the mornings and evenings, but other than that, people stayed away. On the whole, Robin didn't mind – she was too exhausted to mind. Her body seemed not to have been used for a long time, and as a result, her muscles ached after short periods of exercise and she was persistently tired. But after spending most of three days asleep, she decided she was strong enough to venture outside of the confines of her room.

The stronghold was small, but Robin thought it quite pretty. The worn stone was comfortingly old and the courtyards she could see from her windows were filled with sunlight and bustle. There was always some sound of human life, whether it was the quiet babble of talk from the dining hall, or the repetitive ring of two swords sparring. Mostly, she liked it because it was sparsely populated, and the soldiers seemed not to mind her.

So on the third day, she woke up, washed and dressed herself in a simple cream dress (with her black cloak, of course) and stepped out into the open. Running her hand lightly over the wall, she followed the obvious, and only available, path: down the steps and into the main courtyard.

The noise here was much louder than it had been from the safety of her bedroom window, with soldiers jousting not twenty yards away. Servants jostled by her, carrying pails of milk and water, or holding armfuls of wood or crockery. Not knowing where to go next, Robin paused and, looking quite confused, found a kind-looking soldier asking if she was lost.

"Only a little bit," she replied, which seemed to make him smile, "Could you point me in the direction of Lissa's quarters?"

"Lady Lissa?" the man replied, "Just the other side of the courtyard and through the right exit. There'll be a corridor on your left – just head through there, miss."

She thanked him and walked across the cobbled yard, humming a tune she knew from somewhere.

* * *

There was a light rap on the door.

"That might be Edgar, early for his appointment," Lissa said, sighing, "I'll just be a moment."

Leaving her patient and entering the main room, she wove her way through the piles of books to answer the knock. She heaved open the rather heavy door, and found Robin on the other side, smiling when she saw Lissa.

"Not a good time?" she asked.

"It's always a good time for you," Lissa said hurriedly, "What can I do for you?"

"You said you had some of my old books, from… from _before_, so I was wondering if I could borrow them?"

"Borrow them?" Lissa laughed, "My dear, you can't borrow something you own, take all of them to keep if you like – gods know I can't read them."

Robin grinned and stepped into the room as Lissa beckoned. "They're the ones in the corner… yes, those ones," she pointed, "I'll just be a moment, I have a patient to get out of my hair."

"It's fine, don't rush," was the easy reply.

Lissa hurried into the other room. "Now is not the best time – I kinda need you to leave." She fumbled with a jar, before handing it to her patient. "Just rub the ointment into your arm every morning and you'll be fine," she whispered.

"Who's in the other room? And why are you speaking so quietly?" puzzled, the teenage boy hopped off the examining table.

"Please, Morgan, just go," Lissa hissed at her nephew, as he brushed a hand over his hair, confused; Lissa never told him to leave. And he could tell by the characteristic way she kept wringing her hands that she was trying to hide something.

The soft sound of humming floated through the door, and both Lissa and Morgan froze, listening to the melody.

"Dammit," Lissa said, borrowing her brother's favourite curse.

Morgan shook his head at her, listening intently,

"I know that tune," he said, and then grabbing Lissa's arm, "Who's in there?"

Lissa just took a step backwards, silently begging him to leave. The humming continued, and Morgan jolted forward, knocking over a glass in his sudden movement. He took a half step towards the archway leading into the other room.

"Did you knock something over, Lissa? Need some help?" Robin's voice resonated slightly against the stone walls. Lissa put her face in her hands as Morgan turned speechlessly to her. He strode into the other room, pausing only to cast one unreadable look back at his aunt.

She was standing with her back to him, hair loose and hands turning the pages of a book. The sunlight shone of the gold in her cloak, and he thought, _it can't be her. It just can't. Not after three years. _But her head was tilted to the left the way it always had when she read, and she was softly singing a lullaby. The lullaby she had sung to him.

Happiness hit him like a bullet, but drowned beneath the thousands of other emotions. "Mother...?" A half-choked, sob of a sound, as she turned around to face him, the son she hadn't remembered, "I thought you were dead."

* * *

**Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated, and hopefully are enjoying reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it.**

**The title of the chapter is a one of Florence Welch's songs, Dog Days Are Over (it refers to Morgan's loss of calm in his life, maybe?) I was a bit stuck for a title, but I ended up with this one. I am going to introduce LissaxLon'qu at some point, but if you have any other pairings you want to suggest, feel free.**

**So, basically, Morgan hasn't been told that his beloved mother is alive. Recipe for shit to go down. **


	5. Chapter 4 - Blinding

**Chapter 4 - Blinding**

Seeing him was like a punch to the gut and Robin crumpled in on herself, brought to her knees by the blinding pain shaking through her skull. Too many memories coming all at once - of a son, she had a son. _Morgan_, she repeated in her mind, _Morgan_. She held her head in her hands, trying to breathe steadily, but failing as each gulp of air came faster than the one before. Then there were warm hands on hers, holding her face, and a voice demanding her attention.

"It's you," he said, as he stared into her eyes, "it's you."

She closed her eyes as he sank down next to her. Gradually, as the memories slowed, she moved her hands and silently draped them around his shoulders. He stilled, and then relaxed into her, not crying, but quietly trembling. Lissa left them to their embrace of shared grief and joy. They stayed like that for a long time.

* * *

After he was sure his mother was alive, Morgan's emotions turned from happiness to anger. When Lissa returned, long after Robin had left for her quarters, he was waiting on the examining table. Lissa opened the door quietly, and almost tiptoed into the room, as if expecting the oncoming storm. As soon as she came into sight, he spoke.

"When were you going to tell me?" he asked softly.

Lissa squeaked in surprise and took a step back. "Tell you what?" she asked weakly.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that my mother was alive. You know, the mother I grieved over for _three years. _That my mother who I thought was _dead _was actually not lost to me forever."

"We only found her three days ago," Lissa protested.

"Three days earlier than me, her son!"

"She needed time to recover," said Lissa, more strongly.

"Like hell she did, Lissa - I had a right to know." He said, slamming his hands down on the table and rising.

"She could hardly talk for pain, Morgan, she slept for almost two days straight!"

"I don't care," he shouted, "Do you know how long I looked for her? I'd already lost her in my timeline; I've been through this twice. I had a right, dammit!"

Lissa took a step towards him. "She doesn't remember anything, how can you possibly expect her to immediately accept she has a son?" she rejoined.

"Well, she seemed to cope pretty well when she found out, didn't she?" he retorted. "She's angry too, you know, she had a right to know as well."

"She doesn't even remember who your father is, Morgan! What am I supposed to do? Tell her that she had a child with a man she barely recalls?"

That threw him, left him without an answer.

"She doesn't remember Father?"

"No, she only remembers what we look like and our names. She said she remembers fractures of memories, but nothing complete. How do you think_ I_ feel knowing all our years together are gone? How do you think _your father_ feels?" Lissa yelled, her unhappiness melting into frustration.

Morgan just stood quietly, struck with horror. All memories of his mother were of her with his father. She was never without Chrom at her side.  
He couldn't remembered a time when they hadn't been standing close together, arms brushing, in near-perfect sync. When she was tired she would rest her head on her shoulder. When he was angry or sad, Morgan remembered how his mother would hold his face in her hands and rest her forehead against his. He would always brush his lips over her cheek as she blushed, and rub his thumb over her neck. They had always been as connected as two could be.

"Oh gods," he said, realization dawning on him, "Father must be going through hell."

Left unsaid, they paused to think of what it must be like. Being with Robin, knowing she was alive, but not being able to connect with her on the same level, not being able to love her. Lissa sighed.

"I know; that's why he's not here. He's forcing himself to stay away."

"What?" His voice hinted at his youth and wide-eyed unhappiness.

"If he stays near her," she replied, "well, he thinks it'll be more painful."

"To be in love with someone who doesn't _know _you." Morgan said it, as if hearing it aloud would make it true.

Lissa nodded.

"Lissa," he said, "you have to bring him back to Almerry. She has to see him to remember him. She remembered me as soon as she saw me. She remembered Lucina, too."

Lissa looked up, incredulous. "She remembered Lucina?" Morgan nodded.

They fell silent as she thought. "You do have a point," she conceded.

"Where is he?" Morgan asked; he hadn't seen his father in almost a month.

"Aedon, 6 miles south of here."

"Will you do it?"

"I'll send a message. It'll be done by morning."

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading, please review if you have the time and I hope you are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it.**

**This was a hard one to write, because I wanted Morgan to be angry but also not to stay angry. Robin isn't supposed to know that Chrom is Morgan's father, or even want to find out who is. The title is Blinding, another Florence and the Machine song. **


	6. Chapter 5 - Drumming Song

**Chapter 5 - Drumming Song**

The journey back should've been easy, with the short distance and kind weather, but the uncertainty as to what he was returning to took Chrom far too close to fear. His life had been thrown into a confused mix of fear and muddled happiness. Mostly, he was glad Robin was alive, but the ache he had promised himself would be healed when he found his other half was still there, dulled only slightly.

Even as he rode he could feel a gnawing incompleteness. But he had lived with it for three years – he would live through it again if he had too. He was determined not to hurt Robin, that much he made clear to himself when it became evident she how damaged her memories were. And so he had forced himself to leave her to recover.

Now that he was heading back to Almerry, however, he found himself thrown back into the disorientated mix of feelings, not being sure what was meant by Lissa's summons. Half of him still hoped Robin was remembering things, maybe even him, but the other half dismissed this idea – if that had happened, Lissa would have told him. No, it was much more likely something had gone wrong, and he could only fear what had happened. And yet his stubborn heart continued to convince himself that she could learn to remember him. So he went, returning to the fort housing his sister, son and once-lover.

* * *

Robin's felt nothing but relentless anger beating in her chest and the desperate resolution not to forgive her friend, or herself. She was unable to believe that Lissa could hide something from her, but also couldn't understand how she herself could forget Morgan. The anger at Lissa mixed with the anger turned inwards at herself, until they became one and the same, and she could no longer separate them.

Even though she was determined not to, when Lissa came to her door just before evening, Robin almost gave into her. She did not open the door, or even speak much, but there was a tense understanding between them – they would wait until Robin came to Lissa, and then they would talk. Every time she thought of her son and his aunt her head pounded like a hollow drum, and so she hid under the guise of exhaustion. Just as Lissa left, however, she told Robin one last thing.

"Robin…?"

"Lissa."

"My brother is on coming to Almerry, he'll be here by morning."

Silence as Lissa fiddled nervously with her hair.

"You and him need to … talk, and work your way through this."

More echoing silence as Robin flicked her pinkie, panicking internally.

"Just so you know," Lissa said quietly, "and Robin? Good luck."

As Lissa's steps receded down the hallway, Robin's head rose, flushed with something that could have been anger or determination, or perhaps a mix of both.

"Dammit," she said.

* * *

Whilst Lissa's knock had been something timid and quite deferential, the sound of the fist rapping on her door the next morning was authoritative, almost dissenting. As Robin rose to answer it, she heard the sound resonating in her mind. She was calm, completely focused and most of all, silent. For this, she had prepared.

Morgan had caught her unaware, but this time she was reflective, cold - revealing none of her own emotions. What she was worried about, however, was how long she could keep up the façade. With Chrom, she was betting not very long. It was something she remembered from _before_ - a technique she learned in preparation in meeting with the enemy – but one she knew wouldn't be very effective face to face with Chrom. Always a useful skill for a tactician to have.

Even in the state of utter serenity she had constructed, seeing him still hurt. The strange thing was, for her, was that the pain was almost a good kind of pain, a more bittersweet, tangible ache. He stood tall and proud as ever, navy hair and eyes clear and deep, his skin slightly sun-kissed from his hours out in the field. For a while, they stood silent, she watching the way gloved fingers clenched and flexed, whilst he took in the way her hair waved lightly down to her shoulder. She wasn't wearing her cloak, and for a while, Chrom could think of nothing but how this displayed the graceful curve of her neck.

The hush ended abruptly, as Chrom flicked his eyes up to hers.

"Robin," he said, and she could have heard a thousand hidden intonations in that single word, or none at all.

She nodded to him and stepped back, lifting her palm to invite him in. He took a step in, and softly closed the door. _He's always been like that_, Robin caught herself thinking, _he hates the noise of a heavy door creaking or slamming_. They stood almost three feet apart, but as soon as that thought hit Robin, she felt closer to him, as if the small remembrance had connected her that much more to him.

Almost uncannily similar to her son, she opened the conversation with the true issue between them, simply saying, "How long were you going to wait before you told me?"

"Until you were both ready," he replied instinctively. "You needed rest and Morgan needed warning." He paused, swallowing.

Robin gave him an icy stare. "Then you were wrong, Chrom. I needed to know."

"You were barely able to speak, Robin – how could we possibly know it wouldn't hurt you to be so suddenly introduced?" he rejoined, fists clenching again.

Robin gave a cold little laugh, and Chrom noticed how glassy her eyes looked. "Hurt? How could it possibly hurt me? He's my son."

"And I was you hus-" he stopped himself. "I was your family too, Robin and you can barely look at me for pain. It was the most obvious and safe action to take – you can't blame Lissa and me for wanting to keep you safe. Why can't you see that?"

"Keep me safe? Keep _me _safe, Chrom?" her eyes flared with more emotion, and Chrom was half relieved that they had lost their iciness. "You can't keep me safe, there is no way anymore. Every moment hurts because I am so angry, angry at my damn memory. So don't lecture on about keeping little Robin safe, because you can't – and even if you could, it wouldn't be your right to do this, to hide my flesh and blood from me."

"It was the safest action," he retorted angrily, "and you're the one who's wrong, Robin, I have to keep you safe. I have a _duty_ to keep you safe!"

"This is what you call keeping me safe? Hiding my son from me and causing me even more agony when I find out? I had a right to know!" Her voice rose, an almost-shout.

"I had a right as well, Robin, Morgan is just as much of my responsibility. And don't you think this is hurting me as well?"

Robin made a derisive sound. "This is hurting you, Chrom?" she smiled bitterly, "This isn't hurting you Chrom, you still have a past, a place to cling to. Me – I have nothing but a half destroyed ruin of what used to be a person. Our past defines us; without my past, I am nothing. You don't understand hurting."

He found himself lost in emotion momentarily. The thought of her in pain drove him to frustration and sorrow all at once. He wanted to help her, comfort her, but her merciless dismissal of his suffering filled him with anger.

"You-" he started angrily. He took a breath, paused, calmed himself. "You would be surprised," he said quietly, eyes tracing the line of her shoulder.

Robin halted. Her words were stopped at the feeling in his voice, unable to push past her lips and be heard.

A wall of unsaid things lay between them in the silence and Robin found herself wishing she could take back what she had already said, go to him and hold him till he forgave her. The image hit her as a half formed haze of memory, almost but not quite concrete.

He smiled at the ground, his hair grazing low across his forehead as he memorized the wood grain. "Maybe I was wrong, Robin, but what I did was with the right intentions, and it honestly seemed the best solution."

Robin moved her hands in a frustrated, circular motion, stuck between the feelings of inadequacy and regret.

"I know that, really I do," she said, and paused. In the gap between speech, her apology lay silent, acknowledged but still not spoken. "And I shouldn't have said that. I have no idea what you're going through."

Chrom looked up at her, tentative light in his eyes, his stubborn heart refusing to give up. He watched her flick her pinkie nervously and stifled a smile at so characteristic a movement. He nodded once, almost as if in finale.

"I'm sorry."

Silence as the statement sank in, as Robin struggled to comprehend what he had said, and he took a few steps back, hand slightly outstretched to the door.

"I'll leave you to your books, Robin, gods know you love to read." He said, voice filled with familiarity. "I have business to attend to, and you need time. And sleep." Almost but not quite smiling.

He reached for the door and took two steps out under the arch, turning his back on Robin.

"Chrom."

He turned to her again, finding her standing a mere step away from him.

"Thank you," she said simply, and placed her hands on his cheeks, resting her forehead against his, "thank you, Chrom." For acceding to her, for apologising, for hearing her own apology even when she could not bring herself to say it.

They stayed like that for a while, until they were both calm, in temporary tranquility. Secluded, neither said another word, as if scared they would break the spell. But when they parted, they both wished the moment could have been longer, and that time could have paused, just for the two of them.

* * *

**Thank you very much for reading, for sticking around for this long. Please read and review people, it helps me a lot, as this is my first FanFic. ********I want to say a special thank you to all the people who have reviewed - especially Goku's Donut, Tsuna 4 Cn4s and StarlightBreaker for being really lovely and giving me advice on how to write my first Fanfic.**

**Is this story moving at a quick enough pace, or would you rather I speed it up? My initial reaction is to make it quite slow. ****This chapter is titled Drumming Song, another Florence and the Machine song. The song is about a girl who always has a drumming noise/has a pain in her head whenever she sees her lover, so I thought it was relevant.**


	7. Chapter 6 - Only If For A Night

**Chapter 6 – Only If For A Night**

She woke in cold sweat, trembling even in the still, warm air of late September. The blankets were thrown off her body, and as she lay staring up at the stone ceiling she could feel her heart beating against her ribcage. She sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and placing her feet against the worn carpet. She couldn't remember her dream, even as she tried to piece it together.

Trying to steady herself, she surveyed her room, taking in the simple but comfortingly familiar furnishings. In one corner, her growing pile of books, in the other an archway leading to her washroom. A small window in between, lined with the small iris' she was nursing back to health. She contemplated her fireplace, watching the glowing embers deep-set into the wall on her right, throwing flickering shadows onto the two soft armchairs. She curled her toes on the worn rug carpeting most of the floor, patterned with the legend of an ancient, near-forgotten king.

The room was home for now, but even here something terrified her, locked in the mind unable to remember. She refocused on her nightmare, trying to picture what had happened. The dream slowly reformed in her minds eye, trickling back into focus.

...

She had been standing in a hallway: huge, vaulted and near empty. The cold had crept through her cloak and shivered across her skin. She was talking to Chrom as he stood next to her. She could remember all of this with perfect clarity; the deep red of the tapestries on the walls, the beads of sweat running down her neck, the shine of Falchion as the sword brushed the carpet. She could remember Chrom standing, strong shoulders and steady hand, by her side – powerful even as his eyes filled with sadness at what she was asking. They were not arguing, but she was insisting on something he didn't want to accede to.

"Promise me you'll cut me down," she had said and, as he protested, she continued, "I'll resist him with all that I am, I promise. But there are others involved – you have a duty to protect them as well."

He looked at her, and she wished she didn't have to say what she had, but strengthened her will with the thought of what she was fighting to protect.

She remembered forcing Chrom to agree, and then running down a long passageway with him to emerge into a grand hall, far bigger than the already large hallway. The dream didn't flow as well after that; it was more disjointed, more unstable. In the hall there had been a tall man, that she remembered, with black hair and cloak as gold twined around his neck and body like metallic snakes. He had smiled at her, and she was filled with such fear, it pervaded every sense; the bloody taste of fright on her tongue, the smell filling her nose and the tattoo of her heartbeat on her ribs as adrenaline filled her veins.

She remembered the man speaking and Chrom responding, but she couldn't quite pinpoint his words, only remembered the way they had slithered across her bare forearms, filling her with unearthly cold. And then the dark man had laughed, the sound ricocheting off the chamber walls, and all she wanted to do was plunge her sword into his neck, send her blazing fire to burn his heart out of him, because he had told her something; something so horrific she couldn't feel anything but hatred and anger and a squeezing pain in her lungs. _And so_, she had thought, _you were the monster all along._

...

And then she had woken up, shaken perhaps by self-preservation into conciousness. She sighed and stood up from her bed; there was no point trying to get more sleep now. Filled with a thousand questions, she put on her thin dressing robe and added a log to the fire. She passed the rest of the night reading till dawn, her mind distracted by the logic of battle tactics.

* * *

The next morning, she had visitors, the first arriving in the form of her son. Morgan sat quietly opposite her in one of the vastly pillowed armchairs. Having walked in on his sleeping mother, Morgan had gently woken her. It was almost midday, and Robin and her son were talking, trying to catch up on the missed years.

"You'll be going to the main palace soon, I assume," Morgan said, "you can finally see little Lucina and the city. Maybe you'll remember some more stuff as well."

"Is the city big?" full of curiosity, Robin bombarded her son with questions.

"Huge," he replied, watching her eyes light up with interest. "Have you remembered anything else since I last saw you?"

"A few things," the slow reply, "and a couple of dreams."

"Dreams?"

Robin nodded, fiddling with a strand of hair. "Last night is the most prominent example – it's always this one scene that plays out in my dream, but I can never remember all the details."

There was a brief pause as Morgan waited. "Well, then, aren't you going to tell me?"

Robin shook her head in a small movement. "Do you think it would help?"

"I might be able to fill in some details."

Robin looked her son in the eye, weighing up her choices. The decision didn't take long; she settled herself deeper into the armchair and began to recount her dream.

* * *

When she was done, Morgan took a long time to think. He wanted to be careful about how he structured his response. On the one hand, his mother should know as much as possible, but on the other, too much too suddenly could confuse her.

"It sounds like the stories Father told me about to battle with Validar," he said finally.

"Validar?" Robin tested the new name.

Morgan nodded. "You and Chrom went to find him, to stop him taking over the world with the Fire Emblem. Oh, right, you don't know what the Emblem is. Uh, it's an ancient relic, which the first Ylissean Exalt used to seal away the evil dragon, Grima. So, Validar wanted to wake up the evil dragon-"

"I'm familiar with the Emblem, Morgan, and Grima, too. I have been reading some relevant material, you know."

Morgan laughed lightly, brushing his hand almost nervously over his hair. "So, yeah, you and Chrom went to Validar in the Plegian castle and confronted him. There was a long battle, but you guys won, in the end."

"That's what the dream was?"

"Seems so," Morgan answered.

"But what did he tell me?" Robin said, "the most vivid part of the dream is the ending - when he tells me something horrible. I just can't remember what."

Morgan feigned ignorance. He had a pretty good idea about what Validar had told his mother, but seeing her this confused by such a relatively small memory made him hesitate. It wouldn't hurt to hold back some of the past.

"I don't know," he lied, feeling guilty but knowing it was probably necessary, "but it's good you remembered that."

Robin nodded abstractly, still thinking over the ending to her dream.

"Frederick and Sumia are going over to visit you today. Maybe even Lon'qu if you're lucky," Morgan continued.

Robin looked up, temporarily distracted from her dream. "They're arriving after lunch, aren't they?" Morgan nodded. "I can't wait to see them. It's certainly been a while." She smiled absently.

"Yes," her son said, "it _has_ been a while."

* * *

**Please read and review, people, as any feedback is much appreciated. Thank you to all those who have reviewed, it means a lot.**

**The title is another Florence and the Machine song, and Morgan purposefully called Chrom by his name; Robin doesn't know she was his wife. ****Also, feel free to suggest whom I should pair Cordelia up with, currently I'm leaning towards pairing her with Gaius.  
Next chapter will have some Frederick/Sumia, and the one after that some Lissa/Lon'qu, so look forward to that ;)**


	8. Chapter 7 - You've Got The Love

**Chapter 7 - You've Got The Love**

She sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time and, seeing Frederick at the top of them, pulled to a halt. As she mounted the last stair, inches from her companion, she felt her foot catch the rim of the stone. The floor rushed up towards her face and she instinctively reached out with her palms to break her fall, only to find that she was no longer falling. A strong but gentle grip held her at the elbow.

"Careful," a quiet smile in the word,

Sumia beamed at him, watching his eyes twinkle with something that was almost mischief.

"Fourth time today," he said.

"Third!" she responded quickly, "the time in the hallway doesn't count, the carpet was clearly sabotaged." She grabbed his hand and kept walking.

Her husband shook his head, smiling, and let her pull him along the passageway. Sumia found herself grinning back at him. She loved that he laughed with her; that he relaxed around her. When he was with others he tensed up and began working nonstop, trying to help them by doing the practical chores. It helped that they weren't constantly travelling in camp nowadays, so there were servants to clean and carry in every castle and fort, though her husband still liked to help out with the less demanding duties. He worked himself and the fresh new recruits hard.

She looked back over her shoulder at him, and found his intent gaze on her. He always looked at her like that: unwavering, completely focused.

"What?" she asked, going a little pink.

"Nothing," he said, "I was just thinking about how beautiful you are."

She went bright red and looked away, temporarily forgetting where she was putting her feet.

"Ow!" she yelped, "dammit!"

The offending wall gazed down at her as she sat on the carpet where she had fallen. There was now a little dent in the brickwork from where she had walked into it.

"Are you alright, Sumia?" Frederick asked, and, on making sure that she wasn't injured, began to chuckle, shaking his head. Looking up at him through her lashes, she dimpled back at him.

Their laughter resounded through the hall - reaching even the courtyard, where the servants looked up and wondered who was making such a racket.

* * *

Seeing Frederick and Sumia again was a wonderful thing for Robin. She found that as she spent more time with them, her half-memories became more concrete - if they referred to something, she would grasp what she could remember of it and flesh it out with what they could confirm was real.

The only thing niggled at her was the mixed reaction she had to their clearly being in love. Whenever Frederick looked at his wife, Robin could feel the weight in his gaze, the half-protective, half-tender mix of fondness. Every time Sumia glanced back at her husband to dimple almost shyly at him the affection was almost tangible in the air.

The effect on her was strange; most of her was madly happy for the two of them, glad that the connection between them was so strong, but the small other part of her was almost spiteful with jealousy. She looked at them and celebrated, but could never lose the feeling that they had something out of her reach. She dismissed the inner turmoil quickly however, wrote it off as a mere inconvenience, busying herself with the familiarising of her old friends. They wandered from topic to topic until they touched upon Sumia's beloved steeds.

"You should see all the pegasi we have back home," Sumia said, eyes lighting up, "Cynthia spoils them rotten, always feeding the sugar cubes and carrots and whatnot."

Frederick nodded, "She is not the only one who spoils them though; you spend hours brushing their coats to perfection." He twirled a strand of her hand around his finger, "And we all know you have favorites."

"I love them all equally," Sumia announced. Then, rather sheepishly added, "But maybe I spend a little more time with Whinny."

"Only a little?"

"She always gets mud in her coat," Sumia said defensively, "and she is such a pretty mare, it would be a shame not to brush her."

Frederick exhaled, and she grinned at him. "What?" she asked, "it's true."

Robin laughed – they had always been good together, and from the start he had always had his eyes on her, admittedly to stop her falling over at first.

"So, no more riding around the country defeating brigands?" she asked.

Sumia's lips tilted at the corners, "Occasionally, just to keep us in shape."

"What the lady means is," Frederick said, "Cynthia rather forcefully persuades us along, and thus we end up spending a good few weeks travelling."

"We usually go whenever there's trouble – sometimes we join up with Sully or Lissa and Lon'qu. Cynthia once brought Morgan and Nah along."

Robin bobbed her head; "I think he told me about that on - something to do with mountain ruffians?"

"It was quite far north, that time," Sumia shivered, "it was so cold. I spent most of the time huddling next to Frederick."

Her husband tugged lightly on the strand of her hair, "I didn't mind."

Sumia blushed.

"We're due to go again sometime soon, I think," she continued, "Chrom mentioned an abnormal amount of Risen in the east."

Robin paused. "Morgan was telling me about that," she replied, "he seemed to think I should go with."

"Come with us?" Sumia widened her eyes, "just like old times?"

"He thinks doing something familiar will help me remember."

"That would be great!" her friend turned to Frederick. "We could all get back together!"

Frederick turned a reticent face to Robin, assessing the situation, reserved.

"A fine idea, but there are a few issues," he said slowly, "the first being if Chrom will ever allow it. And would he come with?"

Robin opened her mouth to reply, but halted and closed it again, thinking hard.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Sumia's face clouded, "You've got a point, Frederick - we'll have to tell him."

Frederick nodded, leaning forward to lean his arms on his knees, surveying the two. They sat still for a while, basking in the sunlight and mulling over the options.

"I'm meeting him in a couple of days to talk over the weapon supply," Frederick said into the silence and both women looked up at him, almost pleadingly.

'Frederick..?" his wife said.

He nodded. "I'll tell him then." Sumia and Robin both beamed, the latter absentmindedly flicking her pinkie.

Sumia tilted her head at Frederick and put her hand on his. "Just like old times," she said.

* * *

**Please read and review, any feedback is good. I want to say a big thank you to all those who have reviewed.**

**I chose this song title because it seems to suit the Frederick-Sumia relationship and also can refer to the love of old friends - I hope I did the pairing justice. **


	9. Chapter 8 - The Times We Had

**Chapter 8 – The Times We Had**

Bringing his blade down at a sharp angle to slice clean through the remaining mannequin, Chrom completed the blow with a swift flurry of movement, decapitating the dummy as straw spurted from the gash in the sackcloth. Finished with his last fodder opponent, he paused; sweat dripping down from his fringe. He let Falchion lightly brush the hard earth and ran a hand through his hair, pushing the strands out of his sight. The sunlight glinted off the soldiers passing through the courtyard, keeping a fair distance given his knack at destroying anything nearby whilst practising.

He sighed and shook his head, remembering the countless times he had pushed things over, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. He smiled to think of Lissa's reaction that first time he had knocked her doll off the shelf. Trembling with annoyance, she had grabbed a wooden sword of the rack and smacked it down over his head in punishment, pouting lips pulled down in anger.

"Stupid!" she had shouted at him, "you stupid!" before proceeding to storm off, damaged puppet in hand.

After that, they had always called the doll Cracked Lillian, after the Ylissean faery tale, and Lissa had admitted to him afterwards that she liked her toy better with the new decoration.

"But only because it makes her a princess," she had protested, swishing her blonde bunchies through the air. "And Princess Lillian was very pretty, and strong."

"Just like you," he had replied as the six-year-old beamed at him, showing the gap where her first baby tooth had fallen out, "and she was the greatest cleric of her time."

"Yes," Lissa had said decisively, "just like me."

He had wondered if that was why she had become a healer, not only because she naturally cared for others, but also because she always loved the story of Lillian, the warrior cleric. He would probably never know.

Flicking his wrist and stretching out his sore muscles, he dismissed his thoughts, reaching down to pick up the fallen dummy. Behind him, someone cleared his throat.

"Yes…?" he asked, turning to find Frederick standing to attention. "Frederick! It's good to see-" he cut himself off. "We had a meeting scheduled, didn't we?" he sighed.

Frederick nodded, allowing a small smile.

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry," Chrom apologised, "I keep getting immersed in my practice and then-"

"No need to worry, milord," the knight replied, collected as ever, "I took this into account and arrived twenty minutes later than the agreed time, knowing you would need to finish off your … sparring."

Chrom laughed, surveying the damage he had done. "Sparring indeed. What would I do without you, Frederick?"

His old friend nodded. "Well, then, the weapon supply?"

"Inside, friend; we'll discuss in the study."

* * *

Sitting at the oak table in the small military study, Chrom and Frederick poured over the maps spread across the wood surface, the latter taking notes. Having moved on from the supply issues, Frederick glanced down at his paper and raised the last of the topics.

"There is a concentrated area of Risen in the north-east, milord, and our soldiers report no less than five ransacked villages," he said. At his leige's silence, he continued. "The situation is rapidly becoming volatile, and many are fleeing to the hills only to be pushed into the Feroxian border."

"Will they not cross?"

"They cannot, and will not dare, for fear of bandits."

"Ylissean border thieves?" Chrom asked, "are there still many left?"

"With the rise in weakened travellers, yes."

The prince considered. "And what would you suggest we do?"

"I would, if I may be so bold, allow a small but strong force attack the Risen and clear the area for the villagers," was the reply. "If more intervention is necessary, an attack on the border thieves." Frederick tapped his forefinger on the map. "We would need a tactician to finalise the plan, though," he said, almost tentatively.

Chrom shot him an unreadable look, hearing the unspoken question in his friend's statement. "Is that what you would suggest?"

The knight nodded, watching the cogs turn in his exalt's mind.

"So be it," Chrom finally said, crossing his arms. "We'll have a tactician 'finalise the plan'."

* * *

When Lissa came bolting through her door at a breakneck pace, Robin wasn't quite sure what to expect. From the sheer speed of Lissa's entry, she guessed that they must all be in mortal danger; she had never seen the sweet healer sprint so quickly. She rose almost immediately, filled with fear and concern at the sight of her friend bent over in exhaustion, having blown into the room like a fiery tempest.

"Robin!" she shouted, panting and pulling herself upright, "Robin, you won't b-believe what I just heard!"

"What?" the tactician asked, bewildered, "and why on earth are you hurtling around at such a speed?"

"Lon'qu h-heard from Frederick that we're g-going to get back together," Lissa spluttered, "and as soon as I heard, I came to find you!"

"What?" Robin asked, confused. "Get back together? Who?"

Lissa collapsed onto the rug. "Coming," she huffed, pointing towards the door, "he's coming, so just ask him." She gasped for breath. "Phew, that was tiring."

"I bet," Robin smiled, deciding to stall any questions till her friend recovered enough to answer them without wheezing. "I've never seen anyone run so fast."

"You should have seen me when I was little," Lissa smirked up at her, pushing her loosen locks out of her face. Robin sat on the carpet next to her. "I was even faster than Chrom for a while," she laughed, "you should have seen how much that annoyed him."

Robin grinned, trying to imagine a young Lissa. It wasn't that hard, actually; she could picture Lissa very easily - an adorable kid with big green eyes and perky blonde pigtails.

"Lissa…?" A low, even voice from the door, perhaps tinted with mixed amusement and exasperation that only those who knew him well could detect.

"Lon'qu!" Robin smiled and rose to meet her old friend as the dark-headed sword master nodded, reaching one palm out towards her. Robin went to shake his hand and, at the last moment, pulled him into the shortest hug known to mankind, made so by his turning rapidly pink and pulling away before she could ruffle his hair.

"It is… good to see you again, Robin," he said, extracting himself from her grip.

"Hey," Lissa protested, "only I get to do that!"

"C'mon, I haven't seen the man in three years," Robin coaxed, grinning.

"Fine, fine," Lissa grumbled, sitting up, "but finders keepers." She flashed the silver ring on her left hand.

Robin laughed, happy for her friend. "What's this about 'getting back together?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at Lon'qu.

"Chrom has called the Shepherds back together," he paused, "and you have been 'summoned' as our tactician once again."

Robin stared at him, speechless.

"So much for subtlety," Lissa shook her head, heaving herself upwards and walking over to her husband, "geez, lighten up a bit. It wouldn't kill you to smile once in a while." She poked his shoulder.

Lon'qu laced his fingers with hers. "I'll try," he said, turning ever-so-slightly pink.

"Good," she reached up to plant a kiss on his high cheekbone, and he cleared his throat bashfully.

Robin simply continued to stare at them, silenced.

"Oh right, yeah - bombshell, Robin, shock, and stuff," temporarily having forgot about her friend, Lissa dimpled. "Yup, it's happening," she continued, "actually happening."

"And _stuff_?" now it was Robin who was spluttering.

Lissa grinned, "I can't believe it either - Chrom actually agreed!"

"How did that happen?" Robin asked, raised eyebrows.

"No idea," Lissa, positively beaming, "but are you up to it?" she asked.

Robin nodded, her lips tilting at the edges, before breaking into a huge smile. "I'll get to meet everyone?" she asked hesitantly.

"Everyone," Lissa promised, beaming back at her and they both paused to process what was happening, "I can't wait!" she stifled a squeal of excitement and Robin impulsively hugged her.

"It's starting." Lon'qu murmured, smiling.

* * *

**Please read and review, people, I love any feedback. Lon'qu is the hardest person to write, I'm sorry if he's not perfect.  
Unfortunately, the title isn't the name of a Florence and the Machine song, but it is a direct quote from the chorus. This is because the song title is 'Postcards From Italy', and it doesn't fit with the whole Italy-doesn't-exist-in-Ylisse thing. Sorry.  
****As a sidenote, the Cracked Lillian thing was just something I made up - the Ylisseans probably have fairy tales of their own too, right?**

**I'm leaving for Canada ****tomorrow, so there might be a three week gap where I don't upload anything, sorry. I will also be delayed in writing new chapters as I have to leave my computer back in London :( Thanks for your patience.**


	10. Chapter 9 - Kiss With A Fist

**Chapter 9 – Kiss With A Fist**

Holding her spine in rigid posture, Robin flexed her sword arm, trying to a get a feel for the weight and shape of the blade. _An extension of your arm_, Morgan had said, _that's all it is_. But despite her gruelling sessions with Frederick and her son, she couldn't seem to fall back into rhythm. Her muscles knew the moves, remembered the techniques she had learnt, but her mind was halting at every point, more confused and timid then her body.

Sighing, she lifted her weapon again, keeping it straight and level, even as she felt her muscles tremble. This was another problem of hers – she just wasn't as strong as she had been. True, she was improving, but her impatience required her to move much faster, not to mention her deadline. Three weeks, four at most, before they left for the city.

She closed her eyes, breathed in, and started over with the set moves prescribed by Frederick: down, parry, feint then thrust. She repeated this four times, eyes still closed. By the fifth go her muscles ached and her hands were sweaty. She stopped to breathe, tired. The moon hung low in the sky, the only witness to her nocturnal practice. She watched it for a moment, caught up in the silence of the atmosphere as the cold light traced the length of her limbs, glinted of her eyes, illuminated her hair.

She had practiced for over two hours.

"Okay," she said, mostly to herself, "enough."

Sliding her sword back into the weapons rack, she picked up the cloak abandoned by the ringside, and, in the silence that seemed according to the night's quiet, left.

* * *

Watching her spar was a strange experience for Morgan. On the one hand, it gave him a comfortable sense of rightness in the world, for her to be doing what she had always done throughout the long war he had known her in, but the flipside was that whenever she faltered or hesitated, her sword hand not quite steady, her footsteps slightly out of sync, it made him uneasy. It was not just him either; he could see his aunt fretting whenever she watched, Frederick grimacing when he drilled her, even his own mother wincing at her mistakes. For something that had come so easily to her before to be so hard to practise now was unsettling. Simply put, it had never happened before; she had always been so smooth and rehearsed in her fighting.

He felt a small hand tap him on the shoulder, the weight warm and light.

"It'll be alright, I promise."

Morgan turned to smile, finding Nah at his side. He nodded at her and they both watched his mother attempt to disarm Frederick.

"I know," he said, lacing his fingers with hers, "it's just that she seems so…" he trailed off, not needing to voice his concern. He looked at the floor, shifting his feet.

"All in good time," she responded softly, "all in good time."

* * *

Bringing his horse to a halt on the cobbled stone, Chrom dismounted. He thought briefly about calling for the stable boy but, not wanting to disturb a peaceful night's sleep, thought better of it and led the horse to the manger himself. Closing the latch on the fence, he hung up the bridle and he loosened his cloak, before walking back in the direction of his chambers.

As he reached the corridor leading to the main quarters, however, Chrom found himself reluctant to leave the cold night air. He didn't feel tired, and found himself wanting to walk in the cool nightfall, like a tormented insomniac, and experience the place he knew so well when it was cloaked in moonlight. And to make up for his late night, he reasoned, he could always sleep in the free afternoon he had tomorrow.

Within a few moments he made up his mind; he changed his course, this time moving towards the barracks.

...

At the first sound, his hand went straight to Falchion's hilt. His spine stiffened and he went stock still, listening. The sound came again; some kind of scuff against the floor. And instead of disappearing into the distance, the noise was constant, sometimes accompanied by a small crack, and a whistling as if something was being quickly pulled through the air. Someone was moving in the complex, and unlike a servant or soldier passing through, the sound wouldn't disappear. Yes, it was muffled, but it was still there, repeating every few moments.

More puzzled than wary, Chrom took a step forward, half expecting his movement to be heard. But nothing happened, and whoever was making those noises didn't stop, oblivious to the audience. Edging towards the archway in the corner of the weapons store, Chrom flattened himself against the wall, before slowly inching his head around the stone and peering at the practice ring.

Robin stood, for once without her cloak, arm stretched out and holding a silver shine of a sword, perfectly still and poised. He watched her take a slow breath, and then she began to move. There was no other word to describe her but fluid, he silently decided; her movements were more like dancing then fighting. She pulled the sword up, parried an invisible enemy and wove to the right, before stepping forward and dragging the blade up, cutting her imaginary foe's throat. A move he had taught her. He found himself smiling, suddenly filled with a sense of pride. But as she went to move back into her former position, he watched her foot twist unnaturally and she faltered, her grip loosening, her steps out of sync. The blade dived to the floor, not only leaving her open to enemy attack, but also throwing her out of her pattern.

He heard her curse softly as she brought the weapon to a rest, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"Your footwork is the only thing at fault here," he said, his old role as her coach instinctively taking over as he stepped into the ring. "Practice the move slower, by itself."

Her gaze flashed up at him and her sword was at his throat, a hairsbreadth from his jugular. Chrom didn't move an inch.

"Relax," he breathed, "it's just me."

She blinked and took a visible step back, lowering her weapon.

"Oh," she murmured, "gods, Chrom, I could've stabbed you before I noticed who it was."

He shook his head, almost smiling, "You wouldn't have, or I would've stopped you." She shot him a glance that clearly asked if he wanted to test that theory. He laughed. "My point remains, why aren't you practicing it like I taught you?"

Robin sighed impatiently. "You know that move requires two people, and as you can see, only one practicing out here."

"That raises another question," he raised an eyebrow, "why are you out here, all alone, in the middle of the night?"

Robin looked away, fingering the hilt of her sword. "The deadline is in two weeks," she said finally, "and I need to get stronger."

"You accepted." Chrom said quietly, and she nodded. "But is this really the only way you can get extra practice in?" he continued.

She shook her head, her hair catching the silver highlights of the moon. "You haven't seen them, Chrom. I can practically feel Morgan and Lissa panicking on the sidelines and even Frederick frowns when I make a mistake." She flicked her pinkie in annoyance, "I'm just not as strong as I used to be."

"Not true," Chrom said, tilting his head slightly to one side. "You're just out of practice."

She looked up at him, surprised. "That won't matter though, if I can't get this down in a couple of weeks."

"You will," he said assuredly.

"And how can you be so sure?" she rejoined.

"I'm a good teacher," he replied, "pick that sword back up; we'd better get started."

"What?"

"Hurry up, we only have a couple of hours before sunrise."

"Are you kidding me?" Robin asked.

"I've done it before, I'll do it again – you aren't _that_ hard to teach, so don't sound so surprised."

"You're serious?" her eyes lit up in something close to hope.

He nodded. She paused.

"Fine," she said, "just don't be surprised if I start kicking your ass like I used to, Blue."

Chrom groaned. "Why did Gaius have to give me that nickname?"

"I like it," Robin grinned, "so pick that sword back up, we've only got a little while before sunrise, remember?"

* * *

**Please read and review people, I will give you all cookies and hugs.**

**Sorry I've been away for such a long time, but here's the new chapter. Hopefully I won't be going abroad too much in the near future, so I'll be at home in London writing. I chose this song because I can imagine it playing in the background while Chrom and Robin spar.  
Also, I don't know who to pair Panne with, since I usually pair her with Lon'qu (yes, I know, I am a complete anomaly on that front), any suggestions?**


	11. Chapter 10 - Between Two Lungs

**Chapter 10 - Between Two Lungs**

Her sword whistled through the air, a fierce arc of silver, the blade just meeting flesh before it shuddered at the parry of another weapon. A step back, a breath, and she was on him again, ringing the swords together with a focused intensity. He hinted a feint, only to go for her flank, deliberately stepping so she could easily trip over his foot.

"Dammit," she growled at him, and he smirked in response.

"Sorry, Bubbles," he said, "but sugar's at stake here."

In answer to his comment, her broadsword sliced upwards, narrowly missing his fringe. He stepped back, faltered for barely a moment.

"Gotcha," she said, and with a flurry of movement, the edge of the blade was brushing his jugular.

"Right," Gaius said, smiling, "now … let's talk this over, milady."

She grinned, raising an eyebrow at him. "So now you start calling me milady?"

Gaius nodded as best as he could, trying not to jar the sword.

"When one has a knife at one's throat, it can be … how should I say this? Necessary to employ all forms of kiss-assery."  
"Kiss-assery?" Lissa snorted from across the room, a surprisingly loud noise for such a small girl. "Since when is that a thing?"

"Since now, Princess," Gaius snarked back.

"Fine," the sprite healer walked over, pigtails bobbing, "make up words if you want to, but you should watch out, Gaius, she's dangerous with that sword. You might have to employ a lot more kiss-assery now she's armed and deadly."

Robin laughed. "'Armed and deadly' might not be the phrase I would use. Maybe just 'armed and willing to throw the pointy end around?'"

"But that's not half as catchy, Robin," Lissa bumped her arm, looking almost sincere, "Cynthia would be truly disappointed with your catchphrase coining."

"Ahem," Gaius said, and both women turned to look at him, "not to interrupt your wonderful chat, but I believe we made a deal?"

"Oh, right," Robin said, "the sweets. I hid them where you would never look."

Gaius looked at her expectantly.

"Go check the cabbage sack in the mess hall."

He was out the door in a few moments.

"Wait! Gaius!" Lissa called after him, "Did she pass or what?"

"Yeah, sure, she passes," he poked his head round the door. "So can I leave now? I kinda have business of a sugary kind to attend to."

Lissa whooped, slinging her arm around Robin's shoulders and crowing loudly. "She passed!"

"Don't sound so surprised!" Robin poked her friend in the ribs. "Have some faith, woman."

Lissa winked. "I wasn't surprised, I was…."

"Surprised," Robin filled in, smiling and shaking her head, "you trying to be tactful is like Frederick trying to be lazy."

"Hey!" blonde curls bouncing, "that was cruel and unnecessary."

"It was very necessary," the tactician replied, "and I would very much enjoy staying here with you and celebrating, but I have a meeting to attend to."

"Ugh, you and your meetings," Lissa groaned, pouting.

"The burdens of being a tactician," Robin replied, walking to the weapons rack.

"But we'll celebrate tonight, okay?" Lissa declared more than asked.

"I can't wait," Robin turned, gave her friend one last grin, and whisked out the door.

* * *

The room was darker now the sun was setting, and the candle marks were burning low in the oil lamps. It was late enough for her to be tired, but she was not exhausted yet.

"You want to split the army and then lead a pincer-like movement?" Robin traced the movement Frederick was suggesting, resisting the urge to rub her eyes.

Frederick nodded. "It seems the safest route."  
Robin shook her head, and pushed her long hair out of her way. "The safest route would be to rely on the hills behind them and come at them straight on. That way they'll be backed into an ill position; the forest makes it harder to defend."

"I see," Frederick looked down at the map again, and Chrom sat back in his chair, sighing.

Apparently he sighed louder than he meant, because when he lifted his hands off his eyes, his tactician and his knight were both looking expectantly at him.  
"Oh, sorry," he said, his cheeks going ever so slightly pink, "I didn't mean to … uh, distract you." He thought he caught sight of a suppressed dimple on Robin's cheek.

"No need to apologise, milord, I know these rounds are tiring." Frederick replied, inclining his head.

Robin smiled, tapping the map again and drawing the attention of both men. "Speed or safety, Chrom?" she asked looking at the prince, deciding to bring the meeting to an end as swiftly and simply as possible.

"Speed," he said immediately, and then, as if to justify his answer, continued, "time is of the essence; the people at the Ylissean border need us."

Robin bobbed her head. "That, I will second," she said, pausing. "The pincer movement it is, Fred."

They all stared at the map momentarily, almost expecting the ink to writhe across the page and form their plan. Frederick lifted the edges of the paper, and his armour creaked as he stood. "Then that wraps it up, milord."

Chrom relaxed into his chair, running a hand through his cobalt hair. "Thank the gods," he responded, "we've been here a long time."

"Time for bed," Robin laughed, rearranging her own sheaf, "we'll sleep like babes tonight." The ring on her finger winked in the soft light.

Frederick shuffled the papers into an ordered pile. "Milord?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, you're dismissed," Chrom said, making a shooing motion, as his friend clanked out the tent.

Robin stood as well, hair falling back into its usual late-night mess. "Good night, Chrom," she said automatically.

He looked up at her, surprised at her comment, and their eyes met, just for a second. She looked away first, cheeks brightening in the candlelight as she clutched her book to her chest and turned to leave.

"Robin," he said, calling her back. She turned so he could see the profile of her cheekbone, and he was slowed in his response. "Good night."

She smiled, and he blinked as if faced with the glare of the sun.

"Sleep well," she said, almost too quietly to be heard, and lifted the tent flap.

Within a moment she was gone, and the candle started to gutter.

* * *

Robin and her son were sat in the study; Morgan sat cross-legged on the floor and rested his head against the arm of her chair. The morning was still bright and dewy, but the atmosphere in the room was quiet. Nah was out with her mother, Lucina gone off with Inigo again, and, for Morgan, there wasn't much to do.

"You should be out gallivanting with the others," Robin told him, "not cooped up in her with me."

"Gallivanting?" Morgan snorted, somewhat like his aunt. "Nah's not gallivanting, she's rampaging, and if you think Lucina is doing anything remotely fun, than you need to be reintroduced."

"Depends what you think of as fun," his mother replied, smiling, "does having dancing lessons from her personal knight-in-shining-armour count as 'fun'?"

"Huh?" Morgan asked, "Dancing lessons? I thought they were sparring or something."

Robin sighed. "Sometimes boys can be so dense."

Morgan grinned up at her, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I'm not that dense, I did land Nah, after all."

"After almost four months of obliviousness," Robin retorted.

"That doesn't count!" he protested, fringe shaking in earnest.

"Right," she said archly and grabbing a blue curl, unable to resist the enticing bounce of hair, continued, "sure it doesn't count."

"Hey!" he said, trying to pull away from her grip on his locks.

"Hush," she shushed, "I'm still your mother, and with that role comes an eternal right to play with your hair."

He pouted, but she saw the smile he repressed. "Just don't do what you did last time."

Robin grinned. "But plaiting flowers into it was fun!" she laughed.

"Not for me!" he pulled his lips into an even larger pout, "that was definitely not fun."

"You're lucky you have such a pretty hair colour," his mother said, pulling on the strand lightly, holding up to the light. "Such a pretty blue."

Her son froze under her hands, and he looked up at her through his lashes.

"Yes," she said, "a blue just like Chrom's."

* * *

**Sorry this is a little late, I usually update sooner. Please read and review you wonderful people, it makes my day worthwhile.** **If you see any mistakes, please point them out; the point of reviews is to help me improve my writing :)**

**Another Florence and the Machine title, because I am endlessly devoted to her music. And also, did I write Gaius in character? As my near-favourite character in the game, it is quite important to me that I got him right.**


	12. Chapter 11 - Heavy In My Arms

**Chapter 11 – Heavy in Your Arms**

_Her son froze under her hands, and he looked up at her through his lashes._

_"Yes," she said, "a blue just like Chrom's."_

Morgan stayed absolutely still, and for a few brief moments a pin could've dropped and echoed in the room.

"Stop holding your breath, Morgan," Robin suddenly said, a hint of worry in her voice as her fingers stilled in his hair, "Don't forget to breathe."

Morgan let out the breath he didn't know he was holding, the words spilling out alongside the air ""But, but you said, my hair, it's blue-" he said frantically.

Robin laughed. "You looked so scared for a moment there, darling, I thought you had a heart attack."

"Wait," Morgan protested, "wait, what? Why aren't you, you know, freaking out?"

His mother smiled slowly down at him again. "And here I thought you were my biggest admirer," she said, and Morgan's eyebrows shot up in confusion. "I'm a tactician, Morgan – studying people is my job."

"Wait, what?" Morgan pinched the bridge of his nose, more confused than he had ever been. "You- you _knew_?" He instilled such incredulity into the last word that Robin laughed quietly again.

"Morgan, I met you months ago, I met your sister weeks in the past. I have a son, and a daughter, of course there had to be a father."

"But, you never mentioned it!" Morgan said, "I stressed so much over that! You could've let me know!"

Robin bit back a smile at the peeved expression on her son's face.

"How did you know?" Morgan asked, now genuinely curious.

"Remember when I met Lucina?" her voice came out softer than expected.

Morgan raised his gaze to hers, and nodded.

"That's when I knew," Robin smiled again, but it was not a smile of happiness. Meeting Lucina had been too full of emotion to be happy, too mixed up.

"I threaded my hands through her hair," she said softly, and Morgan bit his lip in worry at her tone, "and I held her, and I remembered. I remembered how when she was little I kissed her goodbye, how I found her, how I fought her, and how she carried the Brand in her eye." Her gaze dropped, her tone wistful, and Morgan wished he could change the subject, bring back the smile, even an empty one.

"She told me afterward that you recognised Falchion, but we thought you wouldn't have made the connection."

Robin laughed dully. "Meeting you two," she said, "was so different." She looked up suddenly and a frown flew across her features. "You were the tempest, Morgan, billowing and rushing and knocking down my temporary shelter, showing me how much I didn't know-"

"Sorry," Morgan said sheepishly.

Robin's lips titled at the corners ever so slightly. "No matter, love, no matter. You showed me what I had to see."

Morgan ducked his head, running his hand through it in a manner so like his father's.

"Lucina," Robin continued, smiling at his motion, "Lucina. She was a revelation, but a quiet one. She's always been controlled, calm. She was not so extreme. Lucina was the rain, washing away the last of the fog and clearing the view." Lucina, she thought but did not say, was a different kind of heartbreak; she was the kind that was bittersweet and silent.

"She cried, after," Morgan added faintly.

"She cried during, love, but she would never tell you that."

Morgan bit his lip again. "So you don't … mind?"

"No," Robin said hollowly, "I don't mind."

* * *

He felt a moral imperative to tell his sister about their mother's unearthing, not only because it was probably the right thing to do, but also because he might have exploded if he didn't. Him wanting to tell Lucina wasn't a problem. The way in which he told her, however, was a problem.

"Oh, Gods, Lucy, she knows, she knows!" Morgan yelled as he sprinted into the room, voice of doom in full action and cape flying as he spun round the corner. "She knows about-," he managed to shout, before making a colliding with someone's very sturdy torso.

"Whoa, careful!" the owner of the torso caught the boy's arm to stop him falling. "Calm down, calm down! What's all this yelling about?"

"Uh…" Morgan looked everywhere but the person addressing him. He searched the room rapidly for Lucina, found her standing bemusedly in the corner, books in hand. "Your mapping lessons," it dawned on him slowly, horribly, "why didn't I remember?"

Lucina looked at him, bewildered.

"What's going on here?" Chrom searched his son's face. "And who knows what?"

"Dammit." Morgan squeaked.

…

In the end, there was no getting out of it. Neither child couldn't come up with an excuse, and their father got the truth.  
When he did, he swore a blue streak.

* * *

Time was lost planning, doing. He wanted to leave, to go to talk to her, but he couldn't. His day was filled with a thousand insignificant things; a diplomat from Valm, a ship bearing goods that needed inspecting, a weapons sorting and a journey that needed mapping. The candle marks burned low, the light flickered. The sun sank, and the day was gone in a breath.

…

Robin was relieved when the light disappeared, just thinking that he knew of her discovery made her head and heart hurt all at the same time. By now, there was no way he couldn't; even Lissa knew, and that was never a good sign.

She couldn't help but miss him though, just a little, just enough to be noticeable. The remembrance brought her that much closer to Chrom. Her husband, she reminded herself, her husband. It tied her to him, an invisible bond stretching between them, taut and shining, shown only by the ring she, at first, had never questioned. She remembered again the images that had first struck her when she met him in that field that second time; a long sword, him falling to his knees in pain, his lips brushing her neck, blood dripping down his forehead. A fighter, a lover: such a strange mix, but now explained. She laughed to herself. A strange mix, indeed, but one she had fallen for.

…

That night, they both dreamed. Their dreams were tangled, confused, stuck in a maze of rewind and replay.  
For her there was a dark haze, a streak of lightning and a bleeding wound.  
For him, the night his sister fell from grace.

Both slept.

Both were lost.

But the next day, they found each other.

* * *

**All those who review can take a cookie and flee to the magical land of fairytales where Chrom and Robin belong together forever. Also to those disappointed that the shit isn't going down between Robin and Chrom about the marriage thing? Don't worry, it will.  
Question of the chapter: are Sully and Virion good together? or Panne and Stahl? I've never paired them but I kind of want to try it. Suggestions? And specifically to Strawberry Eggs, who mentioned a Robin-Lucina reunion, I'm really sorry there isn't a full ****scene, I just kinda maybe ended up doing it this way? D:**


	13. Chapter 12 - A King and the Rabbit-Heart

**Chapter 12 – The King and the Rabbit-Hearted Girl**

Morning came, bright and wet, the rain pattering against the shutters of the castle's window. For the Shepherds, it was their last night in the fort, their last day of feather mattresses and warm rooms, the last day of any permanence. They were headed westwards, through the open fields of farmland, towards the capital, even though they were a bare skeleton crew of what they had once been. They hoped to meet others on the road, or in the city, where they would stay a few nights before winding in a more easterly direction, riding north at pace.

Whether Lon'qu would meet them on the road or at the Feroxian border was unknown; news travelled slowly, relying on word of mouth and the few messengers who battled through the harsh winter of Regna to the softer, more temperate land of Ylisse. For the general, this journey was impromptu, for his tactician, it was hectic.

The moment she was awake, Robin was dragged to and fro across the grounds, first checking the new weaponry, then analysing the maps with Frederick, then instructing the servants on what to pack. It was all too much, all much too overwhelming, so when the chance finally came for a break, she took it. By then, it was long past noon, and, motivated largely by hunger, Robin headed towards the hall.

She was alone in the dappled hallway as she walked, her steps made louder by the slight echo present in every chamber made of stone, but she was glad it was quiet. A cup of tea, some fuel, and she would be up and running again, even if she just wanted to curl up and doze.

Luck had other ideas for her however, and just as Robin reached the wooden doors leading towards lunch, her eye fell on a glint of silver barely visible through the slightly ajar door next to her. If the door had been at a more acute angle by even a degree, she wouldn't have seen it, but as it was, she couldn't stop her eyes being drawn to it. The shine was the gleam of the sun hitting metal, intense enough that Robin had to look away and blink several times before the spots stopped dancing before her eyes. Now curious, she laid her hand on the door handle and silently pulled on it, drawing the door towards her.

Before her a sight not seen by many, and even though she knew she shouldn't, she smiled to herself, something akin to a flush colouring her cheeks. Chrom, Prince of all the Realm, High Exalt of Ylisse, King of his House, was asleep at his desk.

The candle marks from last night had run down completely, marking almost eight hours in the stubs alone, and Chrom, blue hair askew, was laid across his folded arms as his chest moved in deep, even breaths.

She could've left, she could've pretended she had never seen him like this, but Robin was far too tempted. Crossing the room, she sat without a sound and watched her liege and husband sleep. She wondered what falling in love with him was like, whether she fell quickly into his arms or danced only slowly with him. She wondered what he was like, not as a king or leader, but as a man. She wondered what their past had held, and remembered how when she questioned Morgan, how often his reply was,

"_Ask Chrom, mother, he's the only one who can tell you that._"

And so, as the rain slowly cleared, the tactician fell for her Lord just a little more.

* * *

"Robin…?" still bleary from his long slumber, he wasn't sure it was her. Especially when she appeared to be napping in the chair opposite him, hair pooling in little rivulets along his desk. "I have definitely missed something here."

Grinning down at his tactician Chrom wondered at the wicked sense of humour the gods had. First for him to fall into riddled sleep during his work, and then to wake to this sight? He wasn't sure whether to thank or curse his deities.

"Robin," he said, noticing the beginnings of her waking, "how, exactly, did this happen?"

Her eyes shot open and she sat upright in a rapid movement, hair whipping backwards.

"Oh gods," she blurted, "I have no idea."

Slowly, he began to laugh, the kind of contagious chuckle that is passed around the room at the retelling of a friend's antics, and Robin found herself caught up in the sound, listening to it spread the blush across her cheeks.

His chuckle quietened, and Chrom looked at her again, noted how her head ducked down as her face flamed.

"Did you need anything?" he asked, more gently.

A heartbeat passed, the moment she hesitated, thought about saying no.

"A few things," she said, smile soft enough to make his heart do flips, "just questions, really."

He paused, hesitated just as she had, considered her proposition, and weighed it up.

"I made Morgan tell me, by the way, just in case you thought he told willingly."

Her eyes flashed upwards, meeting his head-on in surprise.

"Oh," she said, "I knew that. I was just … wondering how long?"

"Almost two years," he didn't match her gaze, his eyes on the past as he looked straight through her.

Robin looked at the ring on her hand, wondered how it could've bound her to this man across the desk for two years.

"And… was it real? I mean-"

Now he looks at her and cuts her off.

"Yes." Steadily their hearts beat in unison.

She flushed to her ears, could no longer even look at the air around him. Chrom smiled, almost knowingly, at her blush.

"I have to go," he rises, takes his papers with him, "I believe I was due at a meeting exactly an afternoon ago."

She nods, still turning away her eyes.

"Goodnight, Robin," he ends this with the word he started it with and as he walks around his desk and as he makes as if to leave, she drops her guard. He steps in, gloved hand at her neck as he swiftly drops a kiss on her burning cheek.

They freeze, for a moment, but soon he is out of the door, gone away to his work.

Robin's heart jackhammers against her ribcage like a wild animal trying to escape.

"Dammit," she says, as she manages not to collapse into a puddle on the floor.

* * *

**Holy crap guys, we reached 150 reviews. I'm going to go laugh and cry and hide in the corner now, you lovely people, because I am too busy having an overload of feelings. I would like to say a massive thank you to all those people who have helped me get so far, it's really the readers who motivate me to write. Have a cookie and a hug, because you are all amazing 3**

**Also, I let my friend (who made me do this whole thing in the first place), name this chapter after her favourite FatM lyric. And on top of that, I have yet another question (I ask a lot don't I? I'm sorry .), am I putting them together too quickly in this chapter? Because I feel like my ultimate OTP may have just made rocketfire progress in a slow paced fanfiction.**


	14. Chapter 13 - Before I Can Breathe Easy

**Chapter 13 – Before I Can Breathe Easy **

The city was beautiful, but a mere shadow of what it once was. When she saw it, she was hit with the image of a graceful collection of towers, surrounded by the bustling thatched cottages of the citizens as the people smiled and talked. Now the streets were emptier and the towers looked more tattered than elegant; the country reflected in the torn flags and loosened stones. No one has time to call a mason when fighting a war – he's too busy cracking skulls with the hammer that used to ring out against an anvil.

The few people who walked on the streets paused when the crown Prince walked by, smiled and bent at the waist. They were tired, but simplistic in their respect. They knew, somehow, that he had gone to war unwillingly, though he had won it at great cost. Robin drew her hood closer, tucking any loose strands of hair out of sight. She didn't want prying eyes lingering on the lost Exalt's wife, not until they absolutely had to.

"The castle," Frederick said to her, nodding up the street to the high gates of the palace and Robin risked a glance upwards. She saw it and paused, as more half-memories assailed her. She murmured and stilled for a moment, organising her messy thoughts into a coherent memory.

"I remember," she said quietly, not loud enough for Chrom to hear. "But the first time, the city smelled of baking bread." She laughed to herself at the absurdity of such an impression.

Frederick also smiled. "It was harvest time then," he said, "and the people were celebrating the full moon by baking round loaves."

"Round?" Robin asked, picking up her slackened pace to keep in step with the knight.

He dipped his head. "Like the moon."

"Ah," she said, and under the cavernous gates into what was, for the next week, her home.

* * *

She was to be presented like a 'prize pig', a direct quote she took from Donnel. It was archaic and, for her, ridiculous.

"Do I have to?" she asked pleadingly, and Lissa shot her a look that meant no arguments.

"You know you do," she replied, not unkindly, "there isn't another way; you're going to be seen at court anyway, and questions will be asked. Better to be presented and stay one step ahead of the rumour mill than be discovered and disgraced."

"Disgraced? Isn't that a little dramatic?" Robin responded archly.

Lissa poked out her tongue. "You know what I mean."

"Did I ever … mingle, before?"

"Nope, not really," the cleric responded, "only when you had to - and then you had to drag me kicking and screaming."

"And this time it's the other way round," Robin rolled her eyes, shifting slightly in her gown, "it's just so old fashioned. I fight like the other men – why don't they have to wear uncomfortable dresses and pins in their hair?"

"Because, gods bless them, they have neither the grace or the patience," Lissa paused and the brush rested in Robin's hair for a moment, "though I bet Chrom would pay to see Vaike in a dress."

"Oh my gods, Lissa, what about Lon'qu? In a satin dress?" she laughed at the thought.

Her friend's eyes widened suddenly and she let out a very unroyal snort. "Oh gods, Robin, imagine the ribbons! The ribbons!" She laughed in a way that could only be described as hooting. "The ribbons!" She almost shouted, "in his hair."

Robin laughed and looked over her shoulder. "You are so weird."

"Shut up, Mrs. Sensible, and I'll take that as a compliment." Robin grinned and Lissa tugged on her hair, before putting the comb down and pulling it into the beginnings of a plait. "I'm almost done anyway."

"Damn, that means it's almost time to go," Robin felt her stomach do a little flip as Lissa teased the last strands into the braid.

"Oh, don't be such a wimp; you look gorgeous." Lissa tied her hair in a flourish.

"I do?" Robin spun as Lissa let go of her hair, glancing into the looking glass hung on the wall.

For a moment, she didn't move.

"Oh, Lissa," she breathed, "thank you."

In the mirror, a stranger looked back. A stranger with a gorgeous gown of white silk, draped with black lace for sleeves and around the neckline. Hair plaited into two braids that met in an elegant bun at her nape drizzled soft curls across her cheekbones; she didn't look like the same woman who could wield a sword as well as any man.

A strange shyness enveloped her, a nervousness that formed butterflies in her stomach. For a moment, she could think of nothing but what Chrom would think when he saw her.

"I look like a lady," she said, biting her lip.

Lissa slapped her hand. "Don't do that, you'll ruin my artwork."

Robin smiled almost sheepishly back at her.

"You are the best," she said.

"Oh, I know that. You're like the little sister I never got to dress up." Lissa stood, hand on hip, appraising her work. "Now run off," she made shooing motions. "Virion is waiting outside to escort you, and you kids better go off and have your fun."

'You make it sound like you won't be there," Robin said, questioningly.

"Oh, I will be, but you won't notice me. I'm sure Chrom will sweep you off your feet."

"Shut up," Robin made a noise of derision, but she couldn't stop herself blushing. At the mention of the Exalt, the butterflies swarmed and her stomach decided acrobatics was a good idea.

* * *

When Virion saw her, he took a very flattering step back and flung his hand over his brow.

"The sun, my dear, is nothing, for you shine far brighter," he said with his usual theatricality, managing to banish some of her nerves.

"You're married, Virion," she reminded him, smiling.

"No matter, no matter," he brushed it off, "Cherche will not mind."

"Minerva might," she poked him lightly in the ribs. "Didn't she mention something about dinner?"

Virion shuddered and offered her his arm, though it was only a short walk. "What she doesn't know doesn't hurt her, darling, but I simply must know where you got that dress."

"Lissa had it made from a Plegian design – apparently only the royals can wear black lace on white."

"Fascinating," Virion mused in response as the walked down the hallway, "I must have a copy of the pattern." He toyed with her sleeve.

"I'll have Lissa give you one," Robin laughed and he nodded congenially as they turned right into another passageway. "I'm glad you like it."

"I'm sure others will too, the courtiers will be dazzled," he continued, gesturing flamboyantly with his hand.

"Only if they love acting as much as you do."

Virion gasped, guiding her though a doorway. "As if my words could be anything but straight from the heart. You wound me greatly, my dear." His hand flew to his chest, gloved fingers earnestly clutching his doublet.

"Right." Robin bumped him in the shoulder lightly and she could've sworn he winked at her as he recovered from his 'wound'. "Don't worry though, the acting is why we all love you." He had the delicacy to blush lightly as she brushed a kiss to his cheek.

"We're here," he trilled, and he flung out his arm towards the entrance to the palace's grand hall. "Just a flight of stairs away."

"Oh gods," Robin said, flicking her pinkie and resisting the urge to pace, "already?"

Virion pulled back her arm. "Don't worry, my dear, the first ball is always the most nervous." Robin's eyes flitted from his to the doorway of the hall, her skittishness a tangible thing. Virion smiled down at her, and added an afterthought. "Anyway, my dear, you are a smart and beautiful woman – that's why we all love you."

Robin smiled up at him, the queasiness quelling slightly. Virion was ever the gentleman.

"Cherche would have your head if she knew you were speaking so seriously to me," she said.

"Cherche would say the same," this time he winked properly. "Just don't give me away."

"I won't," she promised.

"Good," he said, and pushed her through the doorway and into the hall.

* * *

**Please read and review, people, I will be ever grateful if you do - take a rainbow marshmallow and a hug**.** The title is another FaTM quote and also sorry for not updating on the weekly deadline I usually keep, I got distracted.  
Weekly question? Is Gerome with blue hair a good or bad thing? And who do you pair him up with?**


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